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First Edition, May, 1923. 



©C1A707680 


MAY 19’23 


Copyright, 1923, by Elizabeth C. Hazelton. 
All Rights Reserved. 









more 


Whereas, throughout her 
than one-half million 
square miles of territory, 
stretching from the Pacific to 
the Arctic Oceans and from 
hill and dale , Canada’s border to Bering 
Sea, Alaska has a wild flower 
which grows on every hill and 
in every valley; and. 


A little 
flower 
blossoms 
forth 
on evert; 









































































The Pioneers WHEREAS, the Grand 
have asJ^ed it Igloo of the Pioneers of 
and we could y\l as k a have endorsed this 
deny them flora j gem a§ ^ Terr itoriaI 

flower of Alaska, 


“So in thinking for an emblem 

For this Empire of the North, 
We will choose this azure flower 

That the golden days bring forth . 
For we want men to remember 
That Alaska came to stay. 
Though she slept unknown for ages 
And awakened in a day. 

So although they say they're living 
In the land that Cod forgot r 
We'll recall Alaska to them 

With our blue Forget-me-not." 

— (Darling.) 






























Therefore, 


So the emblem 
of Alaska 
is the blue 
Forget-me- 
not. 


Be it enacted by the Legisla¬ 
ture of the Territory of 
Alaska : 

Section 1. That the wild 
native Forget-me-not is hereby 
made, designated and declared 
to be the Territorial flower 
and floral emblem of the 
Territory of Alaska. 

Approved April 28, 1917. 


(From “Session Laws of Alaska , 1917.”) 




















The Northern Garden that 
Lured the Portland Rose. 


f EVA, aren’t you and Ralph Fuller 
ever going to get married?” 

‘‘No, I’ve sacked him. I put off 
marrying him until positively his ears got on 
my nerves—the color of his eyes and the 
shape of his nose—they set me wild. Don’t 
ever wait so long, Effie.” 

A young man overheard the speech. 
Treading with sanguine heart the soft loamy 
path, he stood still in his tracks between the 
Cherokee festooned gate and the Le Marque 
smothered piazza of a home in Portland, 
Oregon. Uncertain whether to face the 
girls or to retreat, Ralph Fuller at first did 
not stir. Then, without either Neva Shelton 


























Juneau, Alaska’s Capital, where the Legislature enacted 
that ”the emblem of Alaska is the blue 
Forget-me-not.” 






or Effie Moore suspecting that anyone had 
been within earshot, he closed the gate 
behind him and flitted by the other bungalows 
to East Morrison street. 

Ralph could not have specified how long 
he had known Neva. It was ten years since 
he had thrust into her hand his first sonnet: 






Thou art the rose in somebody’s garden. 

Who thinks of you all the day long; 

And guarding your blushes is Cupid, the warden , 
For fear some one steal you away. 

From that moment she had been his 
Portland rose. 

Why their marriage should have Deen 
delayed, he did not know. What Neva was 
waiting for, he could not understand. He 
owned a fine residence lot in the Rose city 
and was able to build. He could do it 
himself, for he was a skilled carpenter. 

He would give Neva a chance to forget 
his ears, the color of his eyes and the shape 
of his nose, concluded Ralph. Portland’s 
June carnival was close at hand. A 
Rose festival without his Portland rose 
would mean nothing to him. He would go 
to Alaska for a year. 































-Mendenhall Glacier, near Juneau, and a close-up 
at the foot of the glacier. 










ALASKAN FORGET-ME-NOTS 







Mrs. Shelton’s good-by words, “Keep a 
good heart, Ralph, I know that Neva won’t 
throw over the boy she has gone with ever 
since she was knee-high to a grasshopper,’’ 

_i_i i ■ 

r The fifteenth day of June, Ralph domi¬ 
ciled himself on the top floor of an apart¬ 
ment house in Alaska’s capital. A job he 
promptly landed. If the work was rougher 
than he was accustomed to, the pay was 
satisfactory. Of all his bachelor experi¬ 
ences, he found building a coal fire the most 
exasperating. But what was the use of 
hiring an apartment with a cook stove and 
cooking utensils if he did not use them? 

“I thought you’d like a bouquet,’’ the 
woman in charge of the building said to 
Ralph one noon. 

“Forget-me-nots,” Ralph exclaimed. 
“Where did you get them, Mrs. Porter?” 

“Near here—you can see them most 
anywhere—they grow all over.” 

“Grow wild?” 





Alaskan 




































Perseverance Road, near Juneau. 







































WTi 



“Forget-me-not—grows wild in Alaska,” 
pondered Ralph. “Oregon has a state 
flower—but I didn’t know that Alaska—” 

“Alaska has wild flowers aplenty,” 
chipped in Mrs. Porter, triumphing in her 
superior knowledge. “You’d better take a 

? run out to Mendenhall glacier—the auto¬ 
mobile makes it in a couple of hours—and 
see the wild flowers at the foot of the 
glacier. My! they were in bloom early this 

ft 

year. 

Ralph roamed Juneau streets until he dis¬ 
covered every garden wherein flourished 
forget-me-nots. He traversed the Thane 
road and Salmon Creek road; he ranged 
into the thickets aslant Mt. Juneau and Mt. 
Roberts. In unobstrusive nooks he found 
what he was seeking—forget-me-nots. A 
bouquet was never absent from his table. 

“That fellow’s bughouse—keeps me 
awake nights and wakes me up mornings 
with his infernal jog trot. I wonder what 
the landlady would say if she knew that for 
two weeks he’s been wearing a trail on her 
carpet.” 







































“I guess he’s in love,” tittered Mrs. 
Wharton. 

‘‘He’s not content with pacing up and 
down. If he hasn’t taken to bawling morn¬ 
ings—calls it singing, I ’spose. I hope to 
goodness he won’t stay long.” 

He didn’t. He bought a lot on Mt. 
Roberts slope. On the rear he put up a 
shed. With a camp stove, a cot, blankets, 
a table and dishes he started housekeeping 
there. ‘‘No fun like work,” was the sign 
he painted and hung outside. He fenced 
his lot and built steps to it. He spaded up 
and crumbled the soil. A few stumps were 
in the way. They could, however, be util¬ 
ized in his design. Around the outskirts of 
Juneau he trudged digging forget-me-not 
plants. People inquired if he were going 
in for landscape gardening. Juneauites 
expected a bride, and bantered him accord¬ 
ingly. He merely smiled. Mrs. Wharton, 
who pulled herself up the steps in quest of 
news, gained so little that she never went 
again. Meanwhile, Ralph looked months 
ahead. Always he kept in mind the 
fifteenth day of June, which would be the 








'c\ 





































dirns 




ALASKAN FORGET-ME-NOTS 

anniversary of his arrival in Juneau. The 
first southbound steamer after that should 
carry him to Seattle. The first train out of 
Seattle should whisk him to Portland. He 
would bring back Neva to a mountainside 
cottage encircled by Alaskan forget-me-nots. 

In the midst of planting he selected four 
sprays. Soon Neva received a letter. In it 
were two twigs pressed against the words 
“My Portland rose shall become an 
Alaskan Forget-Me-Not.” Mrs. Shelton put 
into her daughter’s hand a souvenir identi¬ 
cally the same, except that Ralph’s message 
read: “Forget-me-not is the Alaskan flow¬ 
er.” 

Gardening finished, Ralph turned his 
attention to the lumber. To Gold Creek he 
went for stones with which to build a fire¬ 
place in the living room. Not a few of the 
stones contained gold nuggets. A nugget- 
studded fireplace would, he fancied, please 
Neva. By the time snow flakes carpeted 
the forget-me-not plants, there clung to Mt. 
Roberts a perfect pattern of the rose cottage 
that Ralph and Neva had planned together. 

His own work completed, he did 





































Juneau, from Father Brown s Trail, Mt. Roberts . 


carpentering for other folks. In spring he 
would blossom out as a Juneau contractor 
and builder. Sometimes he meditated 
moving into his house. Then again he 
hesitated to muss up even the kitchen. 

On his way down town the first morning 
in December Ralph glanced at a store 
window. At noon he stared in the same 
window fully fifteen minutes. Shortly after 
five o’clock he marched into the store. 

Unaware of the half dozen women watch¬ 
ing him, he gazed intently at an article in 
the window. Baby shoes, shirts, flannel 
bands, women’s kimonos and boudoir caps— 
none of those did he notice. He saw, in 
splendid relief on a background of linen, the 
golden name “Alaska” and bunches of 
silky forget-me-nots set off by an azure silk 
border. 

The pillow was not for sale. Ladies 
bought the pattern and did the work them¬ 
selves, explained the woman behind the 
counter. Still, Ralph was not satisfied. 

“Couldn’t you sell it and get another?” 

“It can’t be bought. But—perhaps I can 
get one made for you. Would you step in 


































ALASKAN FORGET-ME-NOTS 



in 



tomorrow? I will see what I can do.” 

The following noon Ralph returned to 
the store. A counterpart of the pillow would 
be finished in two weeks. On the appointed 
day it was ready. He took it to the post- 
office. It would reach Mrs. Shelton 
Christmas day. 

Ralph sent nothing to Neva. On 
Christmas morning he recalled the New 
York-to-Nome aeroplane that had almost 
hit him on Court House hill one August 
afternoon two minutes after the fire bell pre¬ 
pared everybody for the skim over Juneau 
en route to Whitehorse. He smiled at the 
insignificance of that achievement compared 
to the swiftness with which he could mental¬ 
ly bridge the distance between Neva and 
himself. 

In January, Ralph moved out of the shed. 
Scarcely had he settled in his house when 
the Taku wind struck Juneau. Round and 
round the top of Mt. Juneau the snow whirled 
in clouds. Thankful that no Taku, Chilkoot 
nor any other wind could uproot his 
building, he rolled cigarettes and listened to 
the gale. A cold wave came before the 







































mrrs 




Taku wind spent itself. While water pipes 
were freezing, windows being blown out, 
and signboards sent scuttling down the 
streets, Ralph complimented himself upon 
the comfort of his own abode. For all that, 
a gloom as woebegone as the howling Taku 
began to sweep through his being. His 
supper untouched, he peered out on his 
blanched garden and the shrouded peaks. 
Cramming the stove with coal he determined 
to try the picture show. Once inside the 
theater, the terrific gusts of wind were for¬ 
gotten. The fire bell failed to excite him. 
He did not count the number. The scanty 
audience gradually departed. Ralph was 
the last to leave. In another minute he was 
holding his breath. A glow flushed Mt. 
Roberts slope. Flames were near his house. 
His home was ablaze. 

The fury of the Taku was subsiding, the 
sting of the cold wave was lessening. Heaps 
of ashes, cinders and charred timbers 
besprinkled Ralph’s lot. But his garden of 
forget-me-nots remained unhurt. For that 
he was grateful. He could build another 
house. He could collect more stones from 










































Gold Creek, Juneau. 


'mm 














Gold Creek. More forget-me-nots he could 
not plant until summer. 

Temporarily, he gave up the idea of 
rebuilding. One of the contracts he had taken 
must be completed before he could go below 
in June. Besides, Neva might like to go 
over the plans for their home, also help to 
choose the stones from Gold Creek. 

“That patch of blue up yonder reminds 
me of Kodiak and Cook Inlet,’’ remarked a 
man from the westward to Ralph early in 
June. “My eye caught the forget-me-not 
patch the minute I sighted Juneau,” he add¬ 
ed, his gaze fixed upon Mt. Roberts. 

“It’s the setting for my home. I’ve got 
rows and rows of forget-me-nots— 
they’re all round the stumps—they’re in 
between the stones—in fact, they’re every¬ 
where,” enthused Ralph. 

“In Cook Inlet and on Kodiak they some¬ 
times grow on the hillsides like that—a mass 
of deep blue—it does your eyes good—it 
makes you realize how lovely our Alaskan 
flower is.” 

Ralph knew that on the fifteenth of June 
the steamer Revilla was scheduled to leave 






















































.♦’V • 



Ketchikan, Alaska. 





Juneau for the south. To make reservation, 
he was bound for the steamship office when 
he peeped at the previous night’s newspaper, 
jammed into his pocket without reading. 
According to the steamer news, the Revilla 
must be sailing from Seattle while he was 
scanning the paper. From force of habit he 
ran his eye over the passenger list. Sudden¬ 
ly he came to a standstill. He stared at a 
paragraph of names. He could not believe 
his senses. Among the Revilla's passengers 
for Juneau were “Mrs. Shelton and Miss 
Neva Shelton, of Portland.’’ 

A steamer whistling in Gastineau channel 
broke in upon Ralph’s abstraction. On her 
way south that steamer would get as far as 
Ketchikan before the Revilla could reach 
“the first city of Alaska.’’ Straightway, the 
young man rearranged his plans. 

* * * * * 


“What made you come to Alaska, 
Ralph?’’ 

Side by side Ralph and Neva were pac¬ 
ing the upper deck of the Revilla, while the 
buildings of Ketchikan grew smaller. 

“To give you a chance to forget my ears. 

























ALASKAN FORGET-ME-NOT S 


the color of my eyes and the shape of my 
nose.” 

Simultaneously Ralph and Neva stopped 
short. The girl followed him to the railing. 
Together they contemplated sun-illumined 
ripples. 

‘‘What made you come to Alaska, 
Neva?” 

‘‘I came to get a pillow top like the one 
you sent mother.” 

‘‘What are you going to do with it?” 

‘‘Embroider it, of course, you stupid 
boy.” After a pause, Neva whispered, 
‘‘For a home among foget-me-nots.” 

That evening, before taking his steamer 
through Wrangell narrows, the captain of the 
Revilla , in presence of the rest of his 
passengers, united a bridegroom whose fore¬ 
sight had obviated the necessity of waiting 
to reach Juneau and a bride who carried a 
bouquet of Alaskan forget-me-nots. 


Copyright, 1921, 
by Elizabeth C. Hazelton. 







PRINTED BY 

Jowman (a 

SEATTLE 











LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


0 002 209 972 3 

















































































